Chivalry

It's been a long day, thought Ramona Carter as she hobbled slowly down the street.

In her right hand she held a cane, carefully keeping her balance with each weary step as she continued down the sidewalk. Balanced in her left hand was a bag with a single jug of milk. She knew that she would have to go to the store again soon, but the half gallon was all she could manage to carry that afternoon.

She stopped in front of a worn bus sign, smiling with relief as she set her bag on the ground. It would have been nicer had there been a bench at the stop, but Ramona had been standing at this very spot for decades. One more afternoon wouldn't kill her.

While leaning heavily on her cane Ramona looked at her watch, an old fashioned model with a basic face. Reflecting cheerfully in the glass of the watch was Ramona, who smiled to see herself.

Many people feared getting old, but Ramona had always embraced the experience. Her hair was short, curly, and white with a style to frame her face. Her face was clean and free of makeup.

I stopped fooling them about my age years ago, Ramona reflected with a chuckle.

There were wrinkles on her life-worn features that showed every happiness and sadness one person could manage, and she appeared much shorter than she used to as she leaned over the cane.

In just a few moments I'll be on the bus, and then ten minutes more I'm home, thought Ramona tiredly.

As if on cue the city bus rounded the corner, charging down the street towards her. Even from a distance she could see that there was standing room only on the bus.

The bus screeched to a stop, it's doors opening with whoosh that made Ramona feel as if the bus was tired too. Carefully Ramona took the step onto the bus, holding the railing firmly to keep from falling. When she was at last inside she stood facing the isle, met by two rows of unfriendly faces.

Ramona remembered the days when, upon her arrival even as a woman of middle age, men would jump to their feet and insist she sit down. She remembered the days when teenagers would offer their seats to elderly folks, and when even a mother of able body would stand to let someone less fortunate sit. Those days, like the majority of Ramona's life, had passed.

No one stood when Ramona entered. On the contrary, many of them seemed to be scrunching down in their seat, their eyes averted so they would not have to see the weariness on a tired old lady's face.

Ramona had never minded her age, but what she did mind was her limitations. She'd always known she was too proud, and now when she really needed to she could not bring herself to ask. A few of the people looked as if they might cave and offer their seat if she were to ask, but until then they seemed both deaf and blind. Two college students sat whispering in the front, carefully ignoring her. A middle-aged man seemed to be trying to ignore her but kept giving fleeting looks back as if he felt guilt. Near a stony faced woman sat a bouncing little boy who could barely seem to keep his seat as he stared all around the bus in awe.

The doors to the bus closed with another sigh. Still no one rose.

I will not beg, Ramona told herself stubbornly. Reaching to her left she grasped the pole nearest her and held on. It was not easy to do with her cane and bag now balanced precariously with her right hand.

Failing to notice Ramona's situation the bus driver started forward, slowly at first and then with gathering speed. Ramona lurched forward as the bus did, barely managing to steady herself as she stared rather accusingly at the middle aged man who had gall enough to look concerned.

As the bus turned the corner Ramona stumbled again, this time dropping her cane and bag with a clatter so that she could steady herself with both hands. The milk went flying, landing with a thud near the little boy and his mother. The boy stared at it, transfixed, and then looked to where it had come from. He saw Ramona for the first time and smiled at her.

The bus stopped again, jerking Ramona particularly hard as she fought to remain standing. A few people exited the bus, but the moment the seats were empty someone had slid in to fill them already.

Meanwhile the boy had stood up, ducking under his mother's protesting hands as he grabbed the bag and the cane. He made a beeline for Ramona, pulling on the bottom of her sweater when she failed to notice him.

"Ma'am," he said in his most grown up voice. Ramona looked down in surprise, unable to help smiling at the little boy.

"Ma'am," he repeated, "you can have my seat."

He took her hand, leading her towards where his mother still sat. Ramona didn't know what to say as she followed, lowering herself into the seat beside the stony faced woman. All around the unfriendly faces were watching them, all of them suddenly much more ashamed than they had been.

The boy handed Ramona her bag and cane, standing cheerfully beside her as the bus lurched forward again.

"I'm Arthur," the boy said with a grin.

"It's nice to meet you, Arthur," Ramona said, "I'm Ramona."

"Cool, like those books we read in school," Arthur said excitedly, "her name is Ramona too."

"Right," Ramona agreed with a laugh. "And you know whose name you have, right?"

"No... Who?"

"Well, a long time ago there were knights who went around protecting people. The really good knights - the ones who stood for equality and defended a place called Camelot - they were called the Knights of the Round Table. They sat at a round table because that way they were all equal. Back then everyone was really nice to each other. They did noble things like letting tired old women have their seat on the bus," Ramona said with a warm smile, "and they called it chivalry."

Ramona did not notice as the rest of the bus listened in to her story, a few going as far as to lean towards her to hear better. A few looked away, frowning guiltily.

"And even though all of the knights were equal, Camelot had a king who was part of the knights. Even though he wanted them all to be equals, everyone knew that the king was the most noble, the most pure of heart... the most chivalrous. His name was Arthur."

"Like me!"

"Yes," Ramona agreed, laughing, "he was just like you, Arthur."